


Sore Loser

by seb_the_owl



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, hee hee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb_the_owl/pseuds/seb_the_owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxis loses a bet and goes to Bering's office late at night to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Loser

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed some OC's for small cameos, I hope that's ok!
> 
> Oberon, Juno belong to A2MOM
> 
> Aramis belongs to asocialconstruct
> 
> EDIT: berryfunkedup drew some fan art for this! [Check it out!!! ](http://berryfunkedup.tumblr.com/post/44728622736/im-not-even-sorry-maybe-a-little-bit-from)

Praxis stared down at his hand full of cards in utter disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, not to him.

“Oh no.” he breathed. “Oh no no no no no.”

Howling laughter resonated off of the metal bulk heads as Cain doubled over, holding his stomach. “Oh yes yes yes, Patches!” Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his gloved hand. “You lost fair and square!”

Confidence in his card skills would not save him now. In just a few hands his fate had been sealed and there was no escaping it. Maybe. Praxis looked up and glanced at the handful of fighters surrounding the storage container-made-table to find a compassionate face.

“C’mon! Best two out of three?” Praxis squeaked, his voice unnaturally high pitched.

Shaking his head, dreads moving back and forth, Oberon dismissed his plea for help, “No way, you got into the game knowing the consequences,” he replied in his thick accent.

“Aramis? Proximo?” Eyes darting to the fighters he thought were his friends, Praxis was verbally tossing out a lifeline, hoping to snag safety, “Juno??”

“You knew the rules, man.” Juno cackled as he shook his head.

Praxis threw down his cards and threw up his hands, “Guys! I thought we were bros!” All he received from that declaration was another round of chuckles and a laughing Deimos handing him a condom. “You dick heads wouldn’t be laughing if this was happening to you!” he barked.

With horror in his eyes he snatched the condom – complete with Bering’s smiling face on the package – out of Deimos’ hand and stood up. He looked at each fighter in turn, glaring death at each one.

“I swear to Mother, if I’m demoted to cleaning elevators after this, I’m kicking everyone of your asses.” Praxis turned on his heel and stomped out of the hanger. Cain stood up and cupped his hands to his mouth to shout one last taunt.

“Give my regards to the old man’s balls when you are sucking them!” Cain hollered, which led to another round of guffaws from the group.

  
\------

An empty and unforgiving corridor was what awaited Praxis as he made his way down to Bering’s office. He couldn’t believe he lost! The bet to seduce Bering was one he thought was made in jest; he didn’t think that the guys would actually make him go through with it. So much for camaraderie during wartime, Praxis mused.

Hesitation set in once the fighter reached the commander’s office. He could leave and just tell the others that he went though with it. They wouldn’t find out, would they? It’s not like any of them will ask Bering how good a lay Praxis was, he reasoned.

No, better to just go through with it and not be a coward. Sucking in a breath, Praxis hit the com outside the office door, putting in his personal ID, and waited until Bering responded.

Bering’s voice came out clear from the tiny speaker. “What can I do for you, son?” said the fighter-commander.

Praxis was so glad at that moment that it wasn’t a video com. He swallowed and came up with the best lie he could think of. “I, uh, really need to talk to you, sir. It’s really important.” _I’m a genius_ , thought Praxis sarcastically.

Without a reply the door buzzed and slid open. Bering sat at his desk, surrounded by tablets and paperwork, one lamp on the desk lighting the whole room. Praxis walked in stiffly and stopped at attention in front of the desk.

“At ease, Fighter.” Bering looked Praxis up and down, assessing him. “Now what was this “really important” thing you needed to discuss?”

Shifting from foot to foot, not at all at ease, Praxis struggled for something to say. He’d never had to seduce someone before and wasn’t even sure where to start. All of his past relationships had approached him. Thinking to just start bold, he unzipped his jacket.

“Well, sir, I didn’t really have anything important to discuss,” Once the jacket was removed and placed across on of the chairs, Praxis moved to untuck his shirt, “I just wanted to see if you needed help with anything.”

Praxis placed his hands in the back pockets of his pants, pushing out his broad chest, stretching the shirt tight and enhancing his biceps. Bering raised an eyebrow and this time did a slow up-down glance at the fighter’s body on display.

_Yes!_ , thought Praxis, _this is totally working!_ All squeamish thoughts of sleeping with his older commander were replaced by the pride of getting something right. He let some of his hair fall into his face and tried to give his best seductive smirk.

“What things did you think you could help me with?” Bering asked, giving Praxis a smirk of his own.

Sauntering up closer to the desk, Praxis cocked a hip out, and said in his (hopefully) most bedroom sounding voice, “Oh, I don’t know. Keep you company while you work late. Help you relieve some stress.”

Taking it a step further, Praxis placed his hands on the desk, but realized that it made him hunch over awkwardly, not sexy at all. Standing up, he tried to smoothly transition to sitting on the desk, but that was made difficult by all the paperwork and objects cluttering the surface. He only succeeded in getting half his ass on the desk, balancing with one foot on the floor and one hand on the top.

“You believe that I am stressed?” Bering grinned and sat forward, closing the gap between the two. The fighter-commander brushed his fingers against the hand Praxis had propped up on the desk to steady himself.

_This is so easy! I don’t know why I was worried,_ thought the young fighter.

Praxis threw his hair back and attempted to seductively lick his lips, but came off just looking like he was trying to remove food from his mouth.

Bering pulled his hand back, sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Son, are you trying to seduce me?”

And with that question, Praxis’ face fell and he knew that he’d been made. He pulled his hand off the desk and ran it over his face, trying to fight back a blush.

Inhaling deeply and standing from his awkward position on the desk, he looked his commander in the eye. “Was it that obvious?” asked Praxis.

With a deep chuckle, Bering replied, “Don’t get me wrong, 30 years ago and I might have taken you up on that offer,” a small shrug, “but then again, I don’t normally fuck fighters.”

Praxis groaned and sat down in the chair in front of the desk and hung his head. “I’m sorry, sir, I just –“

“– lost a bet and had to collect, I know, son, I know. I was a young fighter once myself.” Bering’s eyes unfocused as if he was reminiscing on times long past. He shook his head and brought himself back to the present.

“Go on to bed Fighter,” Bering gave a small grin, “I’ll over look this small act of insubordination this time.”

With profound gratitude, Praxis nodded and grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door “Thank you, sir.”

As the door shut, Bering shook his head, and mumbled, “Kids.”

 

\---------

The next day at morning mess, Praxis couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. There, at the table, were all of the fighters from the game last night, sitting and waiting with bated breath for a detailed report on last night.

Cain, of course, was the first to speak. “How did it go last night, Cyclops?” he grinned around a mouthful of roll, “Did he make you scream his name?”

Praxis stabbed at his mystery meat and grumbled, “I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

“He did! I bet you loved taking that old co-“ Cain was cut off by the very subject of their discussion walking up to the table.

“Fighter Praxis,” stated Bering, “I just wanted to thank you for last night,” he smirked and continued, “You made an old man feel young again.”

The table was dead silent as Praxis sat there with a gaping mouth. He recovered his senses quickly and replied, “You’re welcome, sir.”

Bering gave him a couple slaps on the back and turned to the rest of the table, “As you were, men,” and walked off toward the officers table.

Everyone sat still for a few moments and then the table erupted into hoots and praise, much to Praxis’ surprise. Cain gave a slow clap.

“Well, well, Patches, I didn’t think you could pull it off,” said Cain as he grinned smugly across the table.

“Yeah well, not all of us are just burning with raw sexual power, like you are,” Praxis stated as he rolled his eyes.

Cain sat up straighter and his grin grew wider, “That goes with out sayin - hey, are you making fun of me?!” he exclaimed.

Once again, the table of fighters erupted in laughter, but to Praxis’ joy, it was no longer at his expense. He took a bite of his mystery breakfast and decided he needed to brush up on his card playing skills, among other things.

**Author's Note:**

> Hurr hurr! I hope no one really wanted Bering/Praxis, I really don't ship this pairing. I really can't see Bering with any of the fighters, tbh...I see him as more of a paternal-leader-type for them. I like both of these characters...just not together! :D


End file.
